


a certain Slant of light

by oaks_and_roses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oaks_and_roses/pseuds/oaks_and_roses
Summary: Black Widow is indestructible. Until a mission goes awry and her walls come tumbling down.The story of Natasha Romanov, and Black Widow, and Clint Barton.N.B. will be my fairly angsty but happy ending version of the Natasha origin story with a side of Clint being a supportive pal.(rating may change)





	1. 1. the widening gyre

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is my first ever fic (!) and I'm out of practice with the whole writing thing, so I'm really just seeing what happens as much as you are.
> 
> I'm gonna try not to make this mary-sue ish and there will definitely be some angst along the way. 
> 
> Also, this work in particular isn't going to be romance-driven, although there will be allusions to past relationships.
> 
> TW for implied past non-con
> 
> Here we go!

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre   
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,"  
-Yeats 

 

“Two circling the circle, one on lower level” Natalia Alianovna Romanova reported over comms.  
“Confirmed, you are cleared to proceed Widow”

Scanning the royal box, Natalia knew she was drawing looks from most of the men, and some of the women in the theatre. Budapest’s finest were out for the opera, and she looked the part - black dress, red heels, and 3 daggers strapped to her thigh. But she was only here for one person. Klaus Gruber, currently number 4 on the KGB’s most wanted list. 

_Breathe, smile._ Natalia took her seat next to Klaus. She leaned over, smiling coyly; “So, are you a fan of the opera?”

“With company like this, how could I not be?”

Internally grimacing at the chat up line, Natalia kept up her act, flirting with her target until the curtain rose. Over the next two hours, she was in autopilot, seducing during the interval, leaning into his hand when he put it around her shoulder, and after the music had ended, going back to his suite.

Sex wasn’t anything to Natalia. Her instructors had made sure of that. It didn’t hurt, she didn’t like it, it was nothing. She had been taught a long, long time ago how to please a mark, man or woman, and besides - at least with marks she was in control. 

She was lying beneath Klaus, moaning convincingly while her hand reached for one of the daggers, when the glass skylight shattered and a dark figure dropped beside the bed. Moving instantly, Natalia grabbed the dagger, swiping it towards the invader, but it just met air. 

He was quick. Damn.

Klaus had uttered a pathetic yelp and fallen over the other side of the bed, while Natalia went straight for the kill, propelling herself towards the dark figure and instantly flipping- getting her thighs around his neck and bringing the knife down again, only for him to grasp her arm and crack the bone underneath. 

Acting quickly and ignoring the pain, Natalia maintained her position and tightened her legs, attempting to choke him. They both struggled silently for another few seconds, when a piercing alarm shot through the air like a bullet. 

“shit”  
“хуёво” 

Both swore simultaneously, and Natalia dropped to the floor, spinning to see Klaus in a corner, with one hand pulling away from a concealed button on the side of the dresser. The other man had done the same as her, and as they both paused, staring at each other and waiting for the other to attack, the unmistakable sound of boots emerged from behind the door. 

It was at times like this where, if she wasn’t so focused and deep in the killing calm and Black Widow, Natalia would have thanked the universe for her training. She knew instantly that the man beside her wanted to be captured about as much as her, and therefore that killing him would be counterproductive until they both got out of this damn hotel and away from the mess this mission had quickly become. 

Deciding on a plan of action, she flicked her unbroken wrist, shooting her dagger at Klaus’s jugular, who was still frozen by the dresser. He would be dead in seconds. Next, Natalia moved, grabbing her other knife and turning to the man who had jerked towards her, just failing to stop the dagger which had completed her mission. He swore again softly. 

“You want to get out of here alive?” she spoke, just as the forces in the corridor (security? police?) hammered at the door. She had taken a guess at English after seeing his face- it just screamed FBI to her. Black Widow was never wrong.

“Fine - but once we’re out of this mess I’m going to have to arrest you”

She almost laughed, but controlled herself enough to keep her voice calm and deadly, “You can try”.

The two spies faced the door as it burst open.

When Natalia- when Black Widow- fought, it was like a dance. She was always calm, and sort of peacefulness descended. She would spin and shoot and slice without hesitation, a cyclone. She was unstoppable and unfeeling. That was what she was doing now, executing a ballet, with emphasis on the word executing. These security guards, however many kept appearing up the stairs, were no match for her - as she flipped across the stairwell, taking three down with one movement. 

The man next to her was about as far from her fighting style as was possible. It was almost distracting enough to actually make her pay attention to something outside the fight. He was fully invested, that was clear, and fought dirty and hard, so unlike her cold style.

He tossed her a gun and she shot immediately and without question. It took almost an hour to get out of the building, especially after the police showed up, but eventually they were out in the cool Hungarian evening. 

They walked away from the scene they had left behind them. Neither talked, heads down and walking, not too fast, further into the depths of the city. 

after 9 minutes and 27 seconds, (Natalia never lost count), he turned and tried to surprise her. It was naïve of him, he should have known that would never work, especially after he had seen her fight. At least he had picked a quiet street for it.

Taking the immediate offensive, Black Widow attacked. She executed a sharp punch to the solar plexus, grabbed his wrist with her broken one (she had diagnosed herself with a hairline fracture: not serious), and twisted, locking his arm. He countered, flipping her but even as she felt her feet leave the ground she leveraged herself away from him, completing the flip and landing on her feet. Both moving forward again, she dodged his punch and went for his legs, pushing hers in front of her to knock him over. Hitting the pavement with her arms, then back, she used her momentum to propel herself back to standing and immediately pounced on the man, who was only halfway back up to standing. Punching him backwards then positioning herself over him so she could better restrict his movement, she delivered a strong blow to his jaw before he used his larger body mass to shove her to the side. He stood, and they went hand to hand, exchanging blows quickly, her dodging almost all of his, while most of hers met their mark. They both backed off and circled each other. She was ready for the kill. 

He had to know he was outmatched - but he was, smiling?

“What.” she sounded angry, and instantly realigned her features to regain its neutral facade. No sign of weakness, any emotion was weakness. 

“You have me beat, well you would, if you weren’t gonna collapse any minute now”

“Ah yes, you tried to drug me, via microinjection. Nice, neat - but unfortunately for you I am resistant to all common anaesthetics”

“Lucky for me, this wasn’t just any common anaesthetic”

Black Widow stumbled, _stumbled,_ and collapsed in the middle of the street.


	2. 2. we never know how high we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the products of my procrastination!

"We never know how high we are   
Till we are called to rise;   
And then, if we are true to plan,   
Our statures touch the skies—"  
\- Dickinson

 

Clint Barton wasn’t in the habit of bringing home his targets. But the Black Widow was always going to be the target who would be the exception. SHIELD had been hunting her for years, ever since she had appeared out of nowhere in São Paulo, massacred about 50 people and disappeared into thin air. They knew next to nothing about her - they had guessed at Russian, based on people who might have an interest in killing her targets. But other than that, and her ever growing list of successful known kills; nothing. That was almost unheard of for SHIELD - who had known everything about his life that was worth knowing before Coulson had brought him in almost five years ago. 

It had been just over two days since she had been apprehended, and Fury had finally decided that it was time for a ‘conversation’. They walked along the bright, monotone corridors of the Triskelion underground levels, towards the holding cell. Fury was silent, as always, but Clint didn’t take that as discouragement, breaking the silence, “what has she been doing for these last two days anyway Sir?”

“other than attacking anyone trying to provide her with medical care and starving herself? A whole lot of nothing.”

That was… interesting. Although he couldn’t claim to fully understand the workings of the mind of a mass-murderer, Clint remembered being apprehended by an organisation he thought was his enemy, and he had wasted no time trying to, unsuccessfully, escape. Maybe she was smart enough to know that would be impossible? Maybe she was biding her time - but then, why would she refuse treatment and food, surely she knew she would have the best chance of escape if she was strong. 

They had reached the door. As it swung open, Clint got his first real look at the Black Widow. She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, starting at them. She looked half bored, but stunning, even though she was a mess, wearing a thin set of standard issue pyjamas, and clearly tired - had she slept?

Fury stepped forward and spoke, “Ms Widow, I am the director of SHIELD, the organisation which has arrested you. Don’t get any ideas about us wanting to keep you alive, we have plenty of evidence of your crimes. You were brought in alive solely to satisfy our curiosity about your origins. Have I made myself clear?”

“asshole”

“Very mature Ms Widow. We’ll be speaking again.”

The door swung shut.

 

\- 

 

It wasn’t the Black Widow who was left in that room, it was Natalia. She let out a breath and sank back onto the cold floor. It wasn’t that the room was particularly awful, it wasn’t like she’d never slept on the floor before. But after two days here she had sunk back to her childhood. If you could call it that. Water dripped steadily from the tap in the corner, tapping a rhythm which took her right back to ballet, coupê, breathe, turn, fourth position, arabesque, breathe. Heart beating fast, panic rising, coupê, breathe, turn, fourth position, arabesque, breathe. She wasn’t going to be good enough, she was going to be punished again.

“No food tonight Natalia, you were sloppy”

“Thank you mistress”

Her chest was tightening. That had always happened on nights, days, weeks like this. The panic was hidden from everyone, but at night, the ones without missions, marks, blood, she couldn’t breathe. She was withdrawn back into herself, the cold floor and dripping tap were further and further away. No. She needed that discomfort - it kept her tethered. That was why, even after winning her title as Black Widow (instead of Anastasia, instead of Yelena, instead of Lilia, their blood on her hands) she always slept on the floor. 

Natalia couldn’t cope. She was so close to breaking she could feel it. You need to get out of here, get back to base, you’ll be punished for getting caught, the sooner the better. 

That was something- a goal? To get punished as little as possible? But Black Widow wouldn’t be scared of pain, she had survived worse. Waterboarding age 12, pliers on her 13th birthday. So maybe she should be making something of this, staying in control and gathering intel. Yes. That would work. And she wouldn’t be punished as badly if she brought back something valuable. Perfect. 

So Natalia stood slowly, subduing the racing thoughts her mind continued to produce. 

 

-

 

Two days after his last visit, Clint was ordered to go and check up on his captive. They hadn’t wanted to introduce her to any new faces of covert operatives, not when they weren’t as confident as they would like in preventing escape. Not with the Black Widow. He opened the door. 

Clint had, in his fairly short life, seen plenty of suffering. He had seen starving children - fuck, he had been one. Bullet wounds, poverty, starvation, murder, the lot. He knew pain, the abstract experience, the real shock of it, all too intimately. So when he saw the Widow’s face, he could recognise the signs on her face immediately.

The Black Widow was in pain - not physically, she hadn’t been severely injured and a fractured wrist would be on its way to healing by now, but mentally. The door had swung open to reveal her sitting, curled up in the corner, leaning against the cold concrete. The light hit her face and her eyes opened sharply, revealing a dark look which showed, he was sure unintentionally, some glimpse of vulnerability and hurt. 

“Hi…”

Clint cursed himself for his awkwardness, but how else is someone meant to start a conversation with an imprisoned mass murderer who looked like she was an inch away from giving up?

“Hello” her voice was soft and cracked, and she looked up at him blankly, no emotion showing whatsoever.

“Wow, an actual response? You’ve really matured these last couple of days”

“I never have been fond of patronising men, are you one of them?” Clint actually felt the urge to take a step back, her eyes were so cold. Shit she was scary. And no sign of whatever had been upsetting her was left on her face.

“How about I promise not to be patronising, and you give me your name?”

“Natasha”  
The first piece of real information they had got on the Black Widow, and it came straight from her own mouth. Unless she was lying- which was of course impossible for Clint to ascertain.

“I’m Clint, nice to meet you”. So fucking polite- why was he being polite?! 

Natasha stood in front of him and offered her hand out. She no longer looked ready to attack him, and this room was closely surveilled enough that he wasn’t too worried about her killing him, so he took the hand and shook it. It was silent, and almost awkward, but Clint was hyperaware of the woman, girl (she was younger than he had first guessed, maybe 20?).

“Well Natasha” he spoke, realising that she wasn’t going to be particularly talkative, “why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

 

-

 

What a question. Myself. Selfhood. Natalia’s head was spinning- she had no cover- no identity to fall back on, it wasn’t safe.

Plan B.

“what would you like to know?” the sentence was coy, and when coupled with a smooth repositioning of herself to the floor; leaning back on her arms to better display her chest, she felt more in control. This role was familiar. 

She saw Clint blink twice, and glance uncomfortably at the door. 

“How about who you work for?” Damn.

“Just some people, I’m sure you wouldn’t know them”

“Oh come on, a hint? Let me guess, MI6? China? KGB?”

Was he flirting? Natalia couldn’t tell but she was more than happy to go along with it. 

“Sure”

“To which one?!”

“Well thats for you to figure out”

He sighed, clearly frustrated - but she thought she could see a hint of a smile in his sharp eyes. 

“Fine, then answer me this Natasha. What do you want?”

Natalia considered the question. Firstly, she was increasingly happy with her panicked choice of name (without a cover, she might add to her superiors if they pointed out that a personal nickname for her own name wasn’t a good fake - too easy to link back to the real her by anyone with a basic knowledge of Russian nicknames). Second, as she tried to think of a believable, attractive response but nothing was coming. Shit. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever been asked that before. What was she meant to say? ‘Oh I want to tell you everything about who I am, who I work for and their address’. No. 

“Well I could really go for a coffee right about now thanks for asking”.

He looked annoyed, but pleased? 

“Well at least you have a sense of humour- thats gonna make this a lot easier.”

“What a lot easier?”

“Getting you to talk”

Natalia grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please review if you can! any advice - critical or otherwise - is much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> As mentioned at the top this is my first fic, so any comments/constructive criticism are REALLY appreciated.
> 
> I'll try and update regularly, but I a fairly forgetful/stressed student so I can't make any promises. 
> 
> T.


End file.
